&//. 



PS 1124 
• B6 T4 
1856 
Copy 1 



FEENCH'S 



□ 



i 



NO. 20. 



TEMPTATION 



OR, 



THE IRISH EMIGRANT. 



A COMIC DRAMA, IN TWO ACTS 



BY JOHN BROUGHAM. 



With Cast of Characters. Stage Business, Costumes, Relative 
Positions, etc. etc. 



AS PERFORMED AT WALLA CK'S THEATRE. 



PRICE, 



NEW-YORK : 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 

121 NASSAU-STREET. 



12* CENTS. 







-A 






FRENCH'S 

« 

AMEEICAN DRA.M^l 

SCJe &cttnjj ISOttfon. 
No. XX. 



TEMPTATION: 



OR, 



THE IRISH EMIGRANT. 



A COMIC DRAMA, IN TWO ACTS. 



BY JOHN BROUGHAM. 



TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 

A Description of the Costume — Cast of the Characters — Entrances and Exits — 
Relative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and the whole of the 

Sta^e Business. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year One Thousand Right Hundred and Fifty-SLx, by John Brougham. 
in the Clerk a Office of the District court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. 



NEW- YORK : 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 

121 NASSAU-STREET. 



w 



» 

<£ast of tt)e Characters. — Temptation. 

AS FIRST PERFORMED AT BL'RTOx's THEATRE. 

Mr. Granite, a wealthy merchant, ... Mr. E. W. Clarke. 

Sterling, an old clerk, *' H. Lynne. 

Torn Bobolink, a truckman. - - - - - " ■ Burton. 

0' Bryan, an Irish emigrant, " Brougham. 

Henry Travcrs, ------ »' Levere. 

Williams, --------- Voise. 

PoM/ Bobalink, Tom's better half, - Mrs. Brougham. 
Mrs. Grimgriskin, * - - " Hughes. 

Mary Travcrs, - Miss Hiffert. 



Costume . — Temptation. 



GRANITE.— Plain black suit. 

STERLING. — Large blue coat, black breeches and long gaiters, dark 
vest. 

BOBALINK. — White blouse, gray trousers tucked up at bottom, red 
shirt, and colored neckerchief. 

O'BRYAN. — Dress of an Irish emigrant. 

TRA VERS.— Fashionable walking dress. 

POLLY. — Plain muslin dress. 

MRS. GRIMGRISKIN.— Plain silk, showy head dress. 

MARY. — Ladies' walking dress. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 



EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 

L. means First Entrance, Left. R. First Entrance, Right. S. E. L. 
Second Entrance, Left. S. E. R. Second Entrance, Right. U. E. L. 
Upper Entrance, Left. U. E. R. Upper Entrance, Right. C. Centre. 
L. C. Left of Centre. R. C. Right of Centre. T. E. L. Third Entrance, 
Left. T. E. R. Third Entrance, Right. C D. Centre Boor. D. R. 
Door Right. D. L. Door Left. U. D. L. Upper Door, Left. U. D. R. 
Upper Door, Right. 

'%* The Reader is supposed to be on the Stage, facing the Audience. 



TEMPTATION. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I, — Granite's Office. Granite and Sterling discovered. 
Papers are scattered around. 

Sterl. Balance in our favor, two hundred and fifty-seven thousand, 
eight hundred and forty dollars, bringing the accounts of the house of 
Granite up to date. 

Gran. [Loud.] All correct, Mr Sterling] 

Sterl. To a cypher ! I've been up and down the columns a dozen 
times. 

Gran. Good! 

Sterl. Did you speak, sir! 

Gran. No ! 

Sterl. Ah, my poor old ears ! Five and forty years in this quiet office 
has made them sleepy ; they'll never wake up again ! never ! never ! 

Gran. So much the better — a clerk should have no ears : nimble fin- 
gers and just enough of brain to count up his columns correctly : in 
each way you have worked for me well ; very well, Spindles, and I 
thank you. 

Sterl. Bless you, sir, you are very good ; you never said so much 
before, and it has removed a great weight from my mind I was afraid 
I hadn't pleased you. I'm happy now, sir — very happy. I'm a foolish 
old man, but your goodness will look over this folly. Praise shant 
make me giddy or skittish. No. no ! — when I've wiped my old eyes I'll 
take my pen once more with joy — with great joy, dear sir. 

Gran. I envy that old machine his moment of real enjoyment, for it 
is real : — during his long solitary life the world has been to him a blank, 
his existence bounded by these dreary walls, and yet his remnant of a 
heart throbs from one touch of kindness ! here am I with the revenues 
of a principality at my command, yet would I almost give that up to be 
permitted to feel as he does. Over two hundred and fifty thousand dol- 
lars — the midway to half a million is passed. Haifa million ! why not 
a million 1 I am still young in energy and spirit. Ah, that black ma- 
lignant cloud ! why will it ever pass across the sunray of my thoughts. 
Travers ! hush ! suppose he should hear ; to be in his — in any man's 
power. Sterling ! ah, he's safe ; that friendly deafness ! Sterling, I 
shall have no more occasion for you to-day. 



TEMPTATION. O 

Sterl. Vm glad of it ! I'll go and tell my happiness to the sweet 
breath of heaven. I'll go, but — 

Gran. But what! you have something to say — something to ask? — 
not an advance of salary ! mind, I tell you beforehand that cannot be. 

Sterl. No, no, no ! I am profusely paid ! too much indeed, and yet — 

Gran. Come, what? out with it ; don't stand fidgetting there; what 
have you to say ? 

Sterl. Nothing much ; but I — I — saw him to-day. 

Gran. Whom! 

Sterl. My dear young master. 

Gran. Travers (Rises.) 

Sterl. Yes ; but don't speak his name as if it stung you. I was his 
father's servant before I was yours. 

Gran. Did I not caution you against mentioning that ; you know or 
ought to know what cause I have to keep it blotted from my memory. 

Sterl. I do, I do ! at least I think you told me, he — 

Gran. No matter what of him I told you. this I said, if ever you ut- 
tered word of him or his, that instant you ceased to be employed by me. 

SleH. You did. 

Gran. And yet, in spite of this — you know what I have done for him. 

Sterl. You helped him once, he was unsuccessful ! but he is young ; 
spare him something — you won't miss it, you won't indeed. 

Gran. Miss it ! — don't be a fool ! — every dollar lent or lost is a step 
backward which must be crawled up again by inches. Why don't this 
Travers work ! many a man's fortune has been made with less than he 
has squandered in carelessness. His age is now — 

Sterl. The same as your own son's to a month. You are proud, 
justly proud of him ; so would my poor dear master be of his, were he 
alive. Think what you would surfer could you see your boy, as I have 
seen the other, with his head buried in his fingers, his poor young weep- 
ing wife without the power to help or comfort him except with her pain- 
ful tears. 

Gran. My son can never be reduced to this ; he must be wealthy. 

Sterl. The avalanche falls sometimes upon the most fruitful vineyards 
as well as the most barren waste. 

Gran. Silence, sir ! — how dare you hint at danger or distress to him \ 
What do you want! How much will satisfy this spendthrift? 

Sterl. Well, since your kindness emboldens me to speak, it's no use 
patching up a worn out coat, so even let him have a new one. Give 
him another chance — a few hundred dollars more or less can't injure 
you, and may be his salvation. About five thousand dollars will suffice. 

Gran. Are you mad, Sterling? 

Sterl. Your son will have his half a million to begin with. 

Gran. Haifa million ! He can hold up his head then, eh. Sterling; 
he can wag his tongue amongst the proudest of the land, eh, old friend? 

Sterl. And not be ashamed of either head or tongue ; for he's a noble 
youth. 

Gran. He is ! he is ! My honest old servant and friend, I will help 
this Travers once more. (Writes.) but for the last time, remember that. 
After this interview forget his very name, or you must find another 



6 TEMPTATION. 

home. Here's a check for five thousand dollars, get it cashed yourself 
and take it to him. 

Sterl. Bless you ! now this is like yourself; this is noble ! My poor 
young — 

Gran. Hush! be off at once — a word more and I recall the loan. 

[Exit Sterling l. and Granite r. 

SCENE II. 

Tom Bobalink's Room. Enter Tom singing l. h. 
Tom. (Sings.) " There was a jolly Miller once, &c." Hallo, pet, 
where are you 1 No dinner yet. I am early, to be sure, but uncommon 
hungry. I've heard of people taking all sorts of things to get up an 
appetite; if they'd only have the wisdom to take nothing for a short 
time, it's wonderful what an effect it would have upon a lazy digestion. 

Enter Polly Bobalink, r. h. 

Tom. There you are, bless your smiling, happy face ! that's as good 
to look at as a shining fire to the poor frozen laborer ! Come, what 
have you gotl 

Polly. It ain't much, Tom, cause you know we ain't well enough off 
to afford luxuries ; but it's such a sweet little neck of mutton in a lovely 
stew, what you so much like, you know, with lots of wedgitables. 

Tom. Gallopshus ! Out with it, for I'm as hungry as an unsuccesful 
office-seeker. 

Polly. Office-seekers ! what are they, Tom 1 

Tom. Why, Polly, you know those downy birds we hear of, that, 
when some other has taken pains to get himself a comfortable nest, never 
rests until he pops into it ; but he has the satisfaction of knowing that 
there's a whole flock waiting anxiously to serve him in the same way ; 
but them's politics, Polly, and ain't proper for women to meddle with. 

Polly. I agree with you there, Tom, dear ; there's enough to occupy 
a woman's time and attention inside of her own house, without bother- 
ing her head with what's going on without. 

Tom. Bless your homey little heart, if there were a few more good 
wives, Polly, there would be a few less bad husbands. This is glorious ! 
Ah, Poll, if we could only be sure that we had even as good a dinner as 
this all our lives, how happy I should be. But I often think, my girl, 
if any accident should befall me, what would become of you 1 ? 

Polly. Now don't talk that way, Thomas, now don't repine at your 
condition. 

Tom. How can I help it 1 I try not, but it's impossible. When I see 
people dressed up and titivated out as I go jogging along with my poor 
old horse and truck, I envy them in my heart. I know it's wrong, but 
it's there, and it would be worse to deny it. 

Polly. Could any of those fine folks enjoy their dinner better than 
you do 1 

Tom. No, my girl, not if they had forty courses. But eating ain't 
all ; this living from hand to mouth, earning with hard labor every crust 
we put into it — never seeing the blessed face of a dollar that ain't 
wanted a hundred ways by our necessities, is rather hard. 



TEMPTATION. 7 

Polly. Ah Tom ! and thankful ought we to be that we have health to 
earn that dollar : think of the millions of poor souls that are worse off 
than ourselves ; never look above ydur own station with envy, Thomas, 
but below it with gratitude. 

Tom. Bless your heart, you'd make me contented in a coal cellar. 

O'Bryan appears at door. 

Tom. Hallo, friend ! what the devil do you want 1 

Polly. Don't speak so, Thomas ; he's sick and in distress ; there, sup- 
pose you were like that 1 

Tom. What, a Paddy 1 don't mention it. Come in, Irish — do you 
want anything 1 

Bryan. If you please, sir, I'd like to rest myself. 

Polly. Sit^ down ; poor man ! I pity him, Thomas, though he's only 
an Irishman, — sit down ! 

Bryan. I didn't mane that, ma'am ; a lean o' the wall and an air o' 
the fire, blessings on you for giving it to me. 

Tom. A big lump of a fellow like you ! wouldn't it be better for you 
to be at work than lounging about in idleness. 

Bryan. Och then, that's true for you, sir, it would indeed be better, 
but where is a boy to find it 1 

Tom. Anywhere — everywhere ! 

Bryan. Faith, sir, that's exactly the place I've been looking for 
the last three weeks, and there was nobody at home. I hunted the 
work, sir, while I had the strength to crawl after it, and now if it were 
to come, I'm afeared I haven't got the strength to lay hold of it. 

Tom. Are you hungry l 

Bryan. I am a trifle that way inclined, sir, but I'm used to it ; for 
many's the year I've felt the same onpleasant feeling — excepting it 
might be a month or so, awhile agone. 

Tom. How was that ? you weren't hungry for a month. 

Bryan. No, sir ; I had the good luck to catch a mighty strong lump 
of a fever, and it drove away the hunger while it lasted. 

Polly. Poor man ! sit down and eat ; we haven't much, but it's better 
than nothing. [Takes meat from table and gives it to Bryan.] 

Bryan. I'd relish it better standing up if you plaze. God bless you ! 
Sure it's the poor man that's the poor man's friend, after all. Sure, and 
you've saved me, soul and body, this blessed day. I have never begged 
yet, but it was coming on me strong. I looked into the eyes of the 
quality folks, but they carried their noses so high they couldn't see to 
read the starvation in my face, and I wouldn't ax the poor people, for 
fear they were as bad off as myself. 

Polly. Ain't you sorry, Thomas, for what you said just now ? 

Tom. No ! I'm more discontented than ever, to think that a few hun- 
dred swindling schemers or fortunate fools should monopolize the rights 
of millions. Isn't it a damned shame that I can't put my hand in my 
pocket and make this poor devil's heart jump for joy] 

Polly. Point out to him how he can get some employment : all the 
money you could give him would be no use. See if you can't get him 
a chance to earn his living, and his heart will be continually jumping. 



8 TEMPTATION. 

Bryan. May the heavens be your bed for this good act. I'm strong 
n 0W — maybe luck won't be a step-father to me much longer. 

Tom. Stay ! suppose I were to give you something to do, what would 
you say 1 

Bryan. I wouldn't say much, sir, but I'd do it. 

Tom. I can't give you any money 

Bryan. I don't want it yet awhile, sir. I'll work for my bit ; just let 
me. drop in when ye's are done : the smell of the mate will be enough 
for me. 

Tom. Come along with me then, and if I have any jobs, I'll get you 
to help me. 

Bryan. Long life to you for putting new blood in my veins. 

Tom. Ah, if I had only a little money, how happy we should all be. 

Polly. Hush, Tom ! I won't hear you say that anything could make 
you happier. 

Tom. Not now, Pol, but bye-and-bye : to look ahead and see nothing 
but toil, toil ! 

Polly. Did you not hear how he prayed for what you so much dread ! 

Tom. That's a different thing ; he's only an Irishman ! 

Bryan. True for you ! 

Tom. Come along, Paddy. Good bye, Polly. 

Bryan. To be sure I will, sir, follow you all over the world. Long 
life to you, Ma'am, and may you never know sickness, sorrow, poverty 
or distress, I pray. [Exit Tom and Bryan, d. f. 

Polly. [Watches them out. ~\ Bless his heart, if it were not for those 
little fits of discontent, what a man he'd be. But we can't be all per- 
fect — even I myself confess to thinking of silks and velvets, sometimes, 
instead of cottons and calicoes— and I'll be bound if the truth were 
known, the great folks that wear nothing else but grand things, don't 
behave a bit better, but keep longing for something a little grander still ; 
so he mustn't be blamed, poor fellow, and he shan't be, neither, in my 
hearing. [Exit r. 

SCENE III. — A plain Chamber — Henry and. Mary Travers. 

Enter r. h. 

Mary. Take courage, dear Henry, and hope for the best ; the old 
man promised to speak to your uncle; when he knows the severity of 
our distress, he will surely assist us. 

Hen. Ah, 'tis but a slender hope, wife ; I know his stern unyielding 
nature too well. Is it not hard to see him revelling in wealth which 
ought to have been mine, for I am sure that it was at his dictation, and 
by his advice, my father made so unjust a will. 

Mary. Will they not give you longer than to-morrow ? 

Hen. Not an hour they say. [knock, l. h.] Who can this be ? every 
sound goes through my heart in pain. [Goes to door, l. h. 

Enter, Mrs. Grimgriskix, l. h. 

Mrs. G. Well, good folks, you'll excuse my intruding, but business, 
you know, is business ; not that I want to make you feel uncomfortable, 



TEMPTATION. 9 

but houses won't keep themselves ; lodgings is lodgings, board is board, 
and markets is markets ; beef and mutton don't jump into our hands 
promiscuous like, neither do the hydrants run tea and coffee spon- 
taneous, as far as my slight knowledge of hydrants goes. 

Hen. The plain sense of all this is — 

Mrs. G. Exactly what I am coming to. I'm a woman of few words. 
I make it a point to send my bills in every month, and I presume it's 
not an unreasonable stretch of imagination to expect them to be paid ; 
rents is rents, and moreover must be paid ; and mine, I am sorry to 
observe is not a singular exception in such respect. 

Mary. My dear Mrs. Grim 

Mrs. G. As I before remarked, I'm a woman of few words but Ihave 
my ears about me ; whispers is whispers, and ears is ears, and I have 
heard something that might make you uncomfortable, but as that is not 
my principle, I won't repeat it, but talkers you know will be talkers, 
and boarders never can be anything else in the world but boarders. 

Hen. What have they dared to say of me ? 

Mrs. G. Nothing ! Oh, indeed I'm proud to observe that my boarders 
pay regularly every month, and are therefore highly respectable ; and 
respectable boarders make a respectable house, and my ambition is to 
keep nothing else 

Hen. May I be permitted to ask what this all amounts to. 

Mrs G. "Just $200, being 80 for board, and 120 for extras. I'm a 
woman of few words. [Gives paper. 

Hen. And I am a man of less. I can't pay it. 

Mrs. G. I had my misgivings, notwithstanding your boast of being 
connected with the rich Mr. Granite. Allow me to say, sir, [Site.] here 
I sit until you do pay it ; so you had better see about it at once. 

Sterling puts his head in l. 

Sterl. May I come in 1 

Mary. Oh, yes ! let me look in your eyes. Ah, there is hope. 
[Sterling shakes his head.] No, no ! heaven help us ! 

Sterl. Heaven has helped you, my bright bird. I only shook my head 
to make your joy the greater. 

Hen. What say you 1 Has a miracle been done 1 has that stony 
heart relented 1 

Sterl. It is not a stony heart. I'm ashamed of you for saying so ! 
it's a good, generous heart, as I always knew it was ! It has made 
mine glow with long forgotten joy this very day. 

Hen. Does he give us relief 1 

Sterl. He does ! great, enduring relief! What do you think of five 
thousand dollars. 

Hen. You dream ! I dream ! 

Sterl. No, you're awake ! we're all awake, full up and overflowing 
with happiness. 

Mrs. G. Five thousand dollars. You'll excuse me, but I'm a woman 
of few words. I hope you will not take anything that I have said as at 
all personal to you, but only an endeavor as far as in me lies to keep up 
the respectability of my establishment ! As for that little trifle between 



10 TEMPTATION. 

us, of course you can take your time about that. I am a woman of few 
words, but when I do speak, I think I may be permitted to flatter my- 
self it is to the purpose. [Exit r. k. 

[Sterling, who has been searching his pockets falls into his chair with a 
groan.] 

Mary. What is the matter — are you ill ! 

Sterl. Don't come near me. I'm the destroyer of your peace and of 
my own forever. I've lost it ! lost it ! 

Hen. Not the money! 

Sterl. That's right — kill me — I deserve it ! Oh, careless, careless, 
guilty, unhappy old man ! Lost ! lost ! lost forever ! 

Mary. Heaven support us — this is a blow indeed ! 

Hen. Forgive even the appearance of injustice, my good, kind old 
friend. I am a doomed man ! it's no use to strive against destiny. 

Sterl. Don't, don't ! this kindness is worse than your reproof. Let 
me die ! let me die ! I am not fit to live. Stay ! I'll run back ! Ah, I 
haven't the strength. 

Hen. Come, come, old friend, take it not so much to heart ; lean upon 
me ; we'll go and search for it together ; and even if it be not found, 'tis 
not a fatal loss so long as life and health remain. Come ! 

Sterl. You say this to comfort me, my boy. You see I'm selfish even 
now, detaining you when every moment is of consequence. [Exeunt. 

[Mary appears tranquil until they are gone, then throws herself into 
chair and weeps.] 

SCENE IV.— A Street. 

Tom. [ Without, r ] Whoa ! you stupid brute, won't you 1 stand, will 
you 1 There, take that on your broad shoulders, carry it to No. 44, and 
wait for the money. 

Enter O' Bryan, r. h. 

Bryan. 'Deed will I ! [Kicks on wallet.] What's that! a soft stone, I 
suppose. By my soul, I'm rising in the world at last ; if I'm not kickin' 
fortune before me like a foot-ball, I never will. Blessings on the day 
that I lighted upon that tender-hearted pair. I'm to go to 44, but how 
am I to find it! Here's 41, and next door to it is 43 ; divil take me if 
they haven't left out 44 altogether. Well, now, look here if 44 hasn't 
walked right across the street. Faith, if a fellow had to find out many 
numbers this way he'd be tired crossing the street. 

Enter Tom, r. h. 

Tom. That's right, up with you. You've got to cord another and 
bring it down ; be as quick as you can, for jobs are scarce [Bryan en- 
ters door, r. H.] That Polly is a regular dictionary of thoughtfulness; 
this poor Paddy is ready to jump out of his skin for joy that he's got 
something to do. I mustn't serve him as some folks I have heard of, 
who under the pretence of charity break a fellow's back with work. 
[Takes out a dirty little wallet.] Only fifty cents all this blessed day, and 
this job will make a dollar, and that's all the money I have in the world ; 
but haven't I a sunny-hearted, loving, careful wife, and a home that I 
am always delighted to rush to 1 I must acknowledge that in the do- 



TEMPTATION. 1 I 

mestic department I wouldn't change with the biggest bug of them all. 
I ought to be happy, and I will, too, in spite of the hard times. [Kicks 
wallet.] hallo, what's that? it looks very like — my gracious! how my 
heart tlirobs ! — it is! [Looks round — picks it up quickly.] Money ! heaps 
of money ! The blood's running into my head. [Puts it in his pocket.] 
I feel faint. Hold, it ain't mine. [Takes it out.] I'll leave it there again ! 
No, I won't ! [Pops it back.] It's a windfall ; nobody has seen me ; how 
do I know that ! somebody from those windows — what a fool I am ! 
[ Whistles and walks carelessly to and fro ] It's no use ! I can't persuade 
myself into quietness ; it ain't safe here ! it might fall out ! [Puts it into 
his hat.] That won't do ! [Puts it into his breast.] That's it ! No poor 
man could have lost it, it's too much. Nobody wants it more than my- 
self ! What's that ! there's a police officer — he's looking straight at me 
— I know he is, and I dare not turn. It's a new thing to me not to be 
able to look a man in the face. I'll go up to him and deliver it. [Turns.] 
He's gone ! I'll be hanged if I don't keep it — hanged ! ugh ! what a 
peculiar feeling that word brings all about my back bone. I know I de- 
serve it. My good gracious, the temptation is frightful ! Pshaw ! 
would the next one who passed by, be more honest, than myself? deuce a 
bit. Fortune has sent it me, and by Jingo I'll keep it- 
Enter O'Brtan. r 

Bryan. I found it ! 

Tom. You, you scoundrel, it's a lie ! What do you mean by you 
found it 1 

Bryan. I found 44. and a purty circumlocutious travel I had to do that 
same. A man must be mighty drunk to go straight through this street 
any way . 

Tom. Oh, I see ! where's the trunk I 

Bryan. Well, the lady towld me that the man that was goin' got a lot 
of money just now, so he's goin' to not go away for the present. 

Enter Henry and Sterling, from house, l. 

Hen. Don't be so alarmed, old friend, we may rind it as we go along. 

Tom. It's his money I've got in my pocket. What shall I do 1 I'll 
give it up. No, I won't — he looks well off. 

Hen. I say, my man, you didn't find a pocket-book about here, did 
you 1 

Bryan. Is it me? the never a find ! I wish I did. 

Hen. Indeed ! What fori You'd keep it, I suppose 1 

Bryan. Bad luck to the keep, and to j^ou for thinking of it ; but it's 
the way of the world — a ragged waistcoat is seldom suspected of cover- 
ing an honest heart. 

Hen. Those people have not seen it, that's evident. Come, let us 
search further. My good friends, if you should see or hear of any per- 
son who may have found this money, pray give notice of it in yonder 
house ; for ruin, perhaps death, may follow from its loss. 

[Exeunt Hen. and Sterl., r. 

Tom. Confound it, I must ! No, I won't ! 

Bryan. Poor fellow ! he looks wild. 



12 TEMPTATION. 

Tom. Humbug ! it's only put on to make us give it up. 

Bryan. Give it up, eh? 

Tom. That is. if we had got it ; but don't stand prating there ; if you 
mean to earn your salt, set about it. It's, time to put the horse up. 
You can do it, can't you ? 

Bryan. If I can't I can learn There's nothing in the way of an 
honest living that I won't have a try at. 

Tom. Confound you, who wants you to do anything else; be off! 
I'm sick and goin' home. I've got an oppression on my chest, and if I 
don't have relief I'll drop in the street. 

Bryan. Something's come over you since morning", sure enough. 
But you've been kind and generous to me, and may I never leave this 
spot, but if I could do you any good by taking the half of your com- 
plaint, I'd do it. [Exit, r. h. 

Tom. I dare say you would, but my constitution is strong enough to 
carry it all. Now for Polly ! Shall I tell her ? I've never kept a se- 
cret from her yet. But suppose she shouldn't consent to my keeping 
it ! I shan't say a word about it. I'll hide it for the present — then 
swear I had a prize in the lottery. That's a capital idea ! My God ! 
what am I lingering about here for ? I must go,- — and yet I feel as 
though I were leaving the happiness of my life upon that spot. Pooh ! 
lots of money will make any one happy. A good stiff horn or two will 
make me all right. " Begone, dull care,'' — the singing is gone out of 
my heart, just now ; it will come hack bye-and-bye. [Exit r. h. 

SCENE V. — Tom's Chamber as before. Polly discovered at work. 

Polly. What a dear, considerate, good-natured husband I have, to be 
sure ; the proudest lady in the land cannot be happier than I in my hum- 
ble home. It's nearly time for him to be here, and I must get his bit of 
supper ready ; it isn't much, to be sure, but it's honestly earned, and 
will taste the sweeter for the thought. I have a surprise for him for 
this evening — a delicious bit of tripe ; — he's so fond of tripe as I cook 
it. and I made the man give me plenty of fat. Won't he like it ! [At- 
tends to pot on fire.] 

Enter Tom slightly drunk, d. f. 

Polly. My dear Tom, I knew you were coming. I said so to myself 
just now. 

Tom. Did you ? Then you didn't tell no lies. 

Polly. What's the matter ? 

Tom. Why, what should be the matter"? Where's the use of asking 
such a stupid question as that ? 

Polly. Don't speak so crossly, dear Thomas ; I didn't mean any harm. 

Tom. Bless your little soul, I know you didn't, and I'm a brute. 

Polly. Indeed, you're nothii.g of the kind. 

Tom. I am Polly ! I insist upon being a brute. Ah, you don't know 
all. 

Polly. All what ? you alarm me. 

Tom. There's no occasion for alarm. [Asde.] I wish I could tell her. 
[Aloud. ] I've earned a jolly lot of money to-day, Polly. 



TEMPTATION. 13 

Polly. How much, Thomas 1 

Tom. Shall I 1 . I've a great mind to astonish her weak nerves. I 
will ! How much do you think 1 

Polly. 1 can't say ! 

Tom. No, I won't ! a dollar ! 

Polly. Only a dollar! Well, never mind, dear Tom, we must make 
it do ; and better a dollar earned as you have earned yours, by your own 
honest industry, than thousands got in any other way. But come, sup- 
per's ready. 

Tom. I can't eat ! 

Polly. What, not the tripe, you're so fond of; onions as 

Tom. Pooh ! Tripe is disgusting and onions is vulgar ! I tell you I 
can't eat ; isn't that enough 1 

Polly. Yes, if you say so, Thomas ; but I never saw you in this tem- 
per before. 

Tom. Why do you keep saying savage things that you know must 
aggravate me. Have you got any brandy in the house ] I have a pain 
here that I think it would relieve. 

Polly. Yes, I believe there is a little in the bottle. But, dear Thomas, 
have you not had a leetle too much already 1 

Tom. That's my business ; do as I tell you. 

Polly. Certainly ! my poor Thomas, something must have annoyed 
you, or you would not have taken this drink. But you are so seldom 
thus, that I must humor you ; the best of men are subject to temptation. 

Tom.. [Starts up.] What do you mean by that 1 

Polly. Why, even you have been tempted to forget yourself. 

Tom. How do you know 1 

Polly. I see it in your face. [Exit for bottle, b. h. 

Tom, I believe you do — everybody can. Yes, I am a marked man, 
and for what ! I'll take it back. I cannot now, for I have denied it. 

Re-enter Polly with Brandy Bottle. 

Polly. [Tom drinks.] You frighten me, Thomas ; something has hap- 
pened, I know there has ! 

Tom. Well, suppose there has ; — is a man accountable to his wife for 
every moment of his time. Go to bed ! Where's the use in whimpering 
about it. You've had such a smooth, easy road of it all your life, that 
the first rut breaks your axle. Ha, ha ! don't mind me, Poll. I don't 
mean to wrong you ; but you see I'm a little sprung — leave me to my- 
self. Stay ! kiss me before you go. I'll make a lady of you yet, Pol — 
see if I don't ! Didn't you hear me tell you to go to bed 1 

Polly. Yes, Thomas, but — 

Tom. Well, and why the devil don't you gol what do you stand 
staring at me there for, as if I were a ghost. 

Polly. I'm going, Thomas, but pray drink no more. 

Tom. I'll drink just as much as I please, and moreover, I won't be 
dictated to by you, when I can buy you and your stock up root and 
branch. I've stood your nonsense long enough ; now take my advice 
and start at once. 



14 TEMPI AT ION*. 

Polly. Thomas, dear, never did I expect this ; but you will be sorry 
for it in the morning, so I forgive you. [Exit crying, r. h. 2 e. 

Tom. Damn it ! I am an unfeeling savage ! [Goes to door.} Don't cry, 
Pol., I didn't intend to hurt you. I won't drink any more. [Looks round 
ami takes out pocket-book ] I wonder how much there is. Lord, how my 
heart beats, and something whizzes through my head like a regiment of 
mosquitoes. I feel faint ! What's that 1 I could have sworn I heard 
somebody call out my name. [Pops it in again.} I feel like a coward; — 
for the first time in my life the rustling of a leaf startles me. I never 
yet feared to stand up before a giant — but now a boy would cow me ; 
it's only because I'm not used to it. Here goes! [Takes out money.] 
Fifties and hundreds, by Jingo. I never saw such a sight as this before. 
Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, a hundred ! my eyes are getting dim. Ten, 
twenty, thirty — 1 can't count it. I do believe I'm a little mad ; but oh. 
it is a glorious sight ! a feast ! a banquet, that kills all other sights and 
appetites, and all mine ! mine ! Nobody saw me ! nobody knows it ! 
Nobody but one — but one ! Ah, I mustn't think of that. [ Clasps his 
hand on head ] 

END OF ACT FIRST. 
ACT II. 

SCENE I. — Granite's Office as before. Granite discovered. 

Gran. Stay ! I am alone ! why not destroy all evidence of the old 
man's testament. [Finds envelope of testament] Here it is ! here are the 
cursed words, which uttered in a human ear would in a moment dash to 
earth the structure I have toiled for years to raise. [Reads, and as he 
prepares to burn it, the paper drops, unseen by him, from the envelope; he 
burns the remainder in the grate.] Thus, my son, do I peril soul as well 
as life for you! 'Tis done! — a brief, sudden flame, a few transitory 
6parks. and the past is sealed as with the silence of the dead. [Exit, R. H. 

Enter Sterling, l. h. 

Sterl. Lost ! lost forever ! I've told him all, and ha is inexorable. I 
have killed the son of my benefactor, destroyed the only thing on earth 
to which the wretched remnant of my life was devoted. He can't re- 
cover from the shock, I know he can't ! nor can I ! I feel as though 
my heart were breaking. I wish it would ! I wish it would ! To fall 
from such a height of joy into a gulf of despair — and I. I did it — I who 
would have sold my very life to bring him a moment of happiness. Oh. 
hard, desperate fate. [Picks up packet and places it on desk.] The crime 
of self-destruction is great, but I am sorely tempted ! With chilling 
selfishness on one side, and such misery on the other, life is but a weary 
burden. [Looks at packet] What 'do I see? " abstract of will !" why, 
'tis dated after that one by which Henry was disinherited. Powers of 
justice, should it be ! — it were too much to hope ; my limbs tremble — I 
cannot stand [Puts on spectacles.] Nor can I see! — a moment! — pati- 
ence, old heart ! Now, it is! it is ! Oh. merciful dispenser of all good, 
let me but live to see this great wrong righted. Caution ! caution ! Oh 



TEMPTATION. 15 

for an hour of youth and strength and energy. He comes ! I have his 
heart within my very grasp. 

Enter Granite, r. h. 

Gran. Well, my good Sterling, I am to be troubled no more, I hope, 
by that fellow's pitiful whinings. I was a fool to be overpowered by 
you, but benevolence is my failing ! — a commendable one, I own, but 
still a failing. 

Slcrl. I am glad to hear you say that, for you now have great oppor- 
tunity to exercise it. 

Gran. What do you mean 1 

Sterl. You see before you the most miserable wretch in existence : — 
the money you gave me — — 

Gran. Weill 

Sterl. Is lost ! I have lost it. 

Gran. Pooh ! old man ; don't think to deceive me by such a stale de- 
vice ; that's a very old trick. 

Sterl. Ah, T feared that, even more than the money's loss. You don't 
believe me 1 

Gran. No ! 

Sterl. After so many years 1 

Gran. The temptation was too much for you ; the old leaven exhib- 
ited itself once more ; you remember 

Sterl. Silence, sir ! — the majesty of my integrity emboldens me to say 
that even to you, my master. Your cruel taunt has wiped out all of 
feeling that I had for you ; — fellow sinner, hast thou not committed an 
error likewise. 

Gran. Insolent ! 

Sterl. Nay, not an error, a crime ! 

Gran. How dare you insinuate 1 

Sterl. I don't insinuate, I speak out. I know you have ! 

Gran. Know it ! 

Sterl. And can prove it ; but enough of this. I have lost the money 
you advanced ; will you replace it 1 

Gran. Away, fool ! you are in your dotage. 

Sterl. A dotage which shall wither your strength and strip you in an 
instant of your ill-bought possessions ; — the consciousness of detected 
guilt even now shov/s itself upon your ashy countenance. Since human- 
ity will not prompt you to yield a portion of your stolen wealth, justice 
shall force you to deliver it all — aye all ! all ! 

Gran. Villain, what riddle is this 1 

Sterl. One easily solved ; — behold its solution, if your eye dare look 
at it ; — a will devising all the property you now hold to Henry Travers ! 

Gran. Ha, ha ! deceived ! malicious fool, it is a forgery ! it must be, 
for I burnt the confusion ! what have I saidl 

Slerl. Oh. you burnt it, did you 1 You cannot, you dare not dispute 
this evidence. There are dozens who can swear to my old master's sig- 
nature. Stern, proper virtue would induce me to vindicate his son's 
cause, but I know he would not purchase wealth at the cost of your de- 
gradation ; divide equally with him, and Jet the past be forgotten. 



16 TEMPTATION. 

Gran. [Aside.] Ha! a glimmer of hope. [Aloud.] My kind, generous 
old friend, this is an act of clemency for which I was not prepared. In 
deep humility I acknowledge my very great crime, and shall make even 
more reparation than you require ; let me but have a small pittance to 
retire into the oblivion which I have courted and deserved — the rest shall 
be his to whom it rightfully belongs. Your hand, old friend ; you'll find 
that I shall repair all — thus ! [Snatches paper furiously from Sterling.] 
Thus, and thus ! you shallow-pated fool ! And now the only evidence 
that could fling a shadow across the golden sunray of my good name, 
would be your fragment of miserable breath, which I could take, and 
would, as easily as brush away a noxious wasp, but that I despise you 
too entirely to fear your sting Go, both of you, and babble forth your 
injuries to the world. Go and experience how poor a conflict starveling 
honesty in rags can wage against iniquity, when clad in golden armor. 
I defy ye all. [Exit, R. h. 

Sterl. Oh, villain heartless villain — lost, lost forever. 

[Staggers off, L. H. 1 E. 

SCENE 2. — Tom's chamber as before. — Tom discovered asleep on the 
floor. — Enter Polly r. h. — She goes quietly over and touches him on 
the shoulder. 

Tom. [Waking up suddenly.] Stand off! you shan't have it, it's 
mine ! 

Polly. Why, Thomas, what are you talking about 1 

Tom. Oh, is that you, Poll 1 Nothing, nothing ! I had a nasty kind 
of a dream, that's all. I couldn't sleep all night and I've just had a few 
cat naps, and very uncomfortable they were. 

Polly. My dear Tom, you mustn't drink any more. You see how it 
leaves you in the morning. 

Tom. So it does, Poll ! what a dream I had. Ah, the darkness is a 
terrible time to get over when one's conscience is filling the blackness 
with fiery eyes. Ha, ha, ha ! [Aside.] I've a devilish great mind to 
astonish her, and I will too ! No, I won't ! not yet ! [Aloud.] Polly, 
do you known it's my belief that you were cut out to be a rich woman 
some of these lucky days. 

Polly. Dear Thomas, let me be rich in the happiness of our humble 
but contented home. I ask for nothing else. 

Tom. Pooh, nonsense ! suppose, now, you got a heap of money — a 
prize in the lottery or something of the kind, wouldn't you like to 
elevate your little nose and jostle against the big bugs 1 

Polly. Not at the price of our comfort, Thomas. 

Tom. You're a fool ! money can buy all sorts of comfort. 

Polly. What do you mean, Thomas, by those hints about money 1 
has anything happened? 

Tom. No, oh no ! but there's no knowing when something may ! now 
I'll try her ! [Aloud.] It's my dream, Polly : shall I tell it youl 

Polly. Do, my dear Thomas. I'm so glad to see you yourself again 

Tom. Well then, I dreamt, that as I was returning from a job, what 
should I kick against in the middle of the road with nobody near but 



TEMPTATION. 1 T 

me, at the time — what should I see, but a wallet. I looked into it and 
found it stuffed with money : presently the owner comes along, enquir- 
ing if I had found it, I said no — clapped it in my pocket and came away 
a rich man. 

Polly. I know your heart too well, Thomas, to believe that such a 
thing could occur except in a dream. 

Tom. Why not ? I should like to know. If fortune did — I mean, if 
fortune were to fling luck in my way, don't you think I should be a 
great fool not to grab at it 1 

Polly. Thomas, you've been drinking too much. 

Tom. No, not enough ; give me some more. 

Polly. Not a drop ! husband ; if you will poison yourself, it shall not 
be through my hand. 

Tom. Fetch me the brandy bottle and don't be a fool. I'm master of 
my own home I should think. 

Polly. Home ! Ah, Thomas, some evil spirit I fear, has stolen away 
our once happy home forever. [Exit, R. H. 

Tom. There has, and this is it. Confound you, I'll have nothing 
more to do with you. [Throws it on table.] Poor Polly ! I'll take the 
cursed thing back. I wouldn't have her eyes wet with sorrow to be 
made of money. I'll find out the owner. Stay ! why should I take 
that trouble, let him come to me ; it will be time enough then ! it's 
rather hard to be obliged to throw away a fellow's luck. Here, you 
O'Bryan ! 

Bryan. [ Without d. f.] Sir! 

Tom. Truck ready 1 

Bryan. All right, Sir ! 

Tom. Then I'll go out and see what a little work will do. There was 
a time, I thought if I had as much money, I should be able to jump 
out of my skin for joy, however I came by it; but now that I have it. I 
don't feel so dreadful happy. Poor Polly ! she's crying, I know she is. 
I never went out to my labor without giving her a parting kiss — but 
now I haven't the heart ; the fact of it is, I'm perfectly miserable and 
there's no disguising the fact. I have it ! I know what I'll do — 1 11 go 
some where, a terrible way off — right out of the bounds of civilization, 
to New Holland, or New Zealand, or New Jersey. 

[Exit leaving wallet on table. 

O'Bryan appears at door. 
Bryan. There's a job at that place we were in yesterday, the trunks 
are goin' after all — and so by the same token is the old woman's tongue. 
[Sits on chair.] Well, glory be to fortune, I'm on the high road to good 
luck at last. [Knife, and bread, and cheese.] Plenty of the best in the 
way of eatin', an illigant stable to sleep in, and the finest of straw to 
sleep on — with a christian like quadruped for company. If I had only 
a trifle of money to get myself some duds, wouldn't I be so full of fun 
and industry I'd take the buzz out of a hive of bees. Bad luck attend 
me. if I don't think the divil has slipped a swadge of temptation before 
me at the very word ; but the never a one o' me '11 touch it. Get out, 
you schemer ! I feel the whisk of youx tail as natural as if I saw it. 



18 TEMPTATION. 

I wonder whose it is 1 it ain't mine anyway ! You needn't %tare me in 
the face that way. I wouldn't howld you no more nor if you were 
made of blazes ! and maybe you are, you black looking bit of be- 
divilment. 

Enter Polly, r. h. 

Polly. Gone ! Is Thomas gone ! 

Bryan. Just this minute or two back. Howld hard ! don't come this 
way ; do you see that 1 

Polly. What is it ? 

Bryan. Don't touch it ! it's Temptation ! bedivilment ! I was foolish 
enough just now, to wish I had a trifle of money, and may I never see 
harm if that lump of a pocket book didn't spring up afore my eyes. 

Polly. Thomas must have dropped it ! Ha ; I know ! it must be ! 
his dream was not a dream but the reality ; he has found this and his 
uncertainty whether to retain it or give it up, has caused his sleepless 
uncomfortable night. Did you hear any one say they had lost money 
yesterday 1 

Bryan. Faix, I believe I did. 

Polly. Where? 

Bryan. Just a street or two beyant. 

Polly. Quick ! quick ! my shawl and bonnet ; it shall be returned at 
once. Come, show me the place, Bryan. I don't know how it came 
here but this money must be that which has been lost. 

Bryan. Who knows but it may ; at all events one comfort, if it ain't 
enough, maybe there'll be a fresh crop when we come back. 

[Exeunt, L. D. F. 

SCENE III. — Granite's Chamber as before. 

[Voice without.'] He will not see you. 

Sterl. [ Without. ] He must! he shall! [Enters l.] Heaven has en- 
dowed me with an increase of strength and resolution for this, my last 
interview. 

Enter Granite, r. h. 

Gran. What outrage is this 1 Did I not warn you never to cross my 
threshold again 1 — beware, lest the residue Of your days be passed within 
a prison's walls ! 

Sterl. I care not ! your inhumanity and vile ingratitude to those whose 
inheritance you have stolen, have made me desperate. Ob, I'll be pati- 
ent, humble, cringe and lower myself to be the veriest dog that ever 
licked the hand that spurned it, if you will but be merciful. You don't 
know how they suffer. 

Gran. You have heard my answer. Here, Williams ! 

SteH. Not yet ! not yet. I implored you once for the sake of your 
own flesh and blood ; — recollect, the measure that you mete out may be 
returned on his head — your son's. 

Gran. T won't hear you speak of him. Dare but to couple his name 



TEMPTATION. 19 



» 



with the vile herd, and I'll have you driven hence with blows. Wil- 
liams, I say ! can I not be obeyed ! You have had my answer before ; 
hear me repeat it and bellow it in your deadened ear. I wouldn't give 
you or the viper who sent you here, a shilling, if I saw you and the 
whole crew starving before my face. The property is mine! mine ! I 
hold it by the strong arm of the law, and I will keep it, despite of 

Sterl. Heaven's justice. Take heed! it sometimes overtakes the 
guilty in their hour of greatest triumph. 

Gran. I'll hear no more. Go, or I shall strike you to my foot. Here, 
"Williams. 

Enter Williams, l. h. 

Gran. You are come at last ! why did you not answer me 1 

Williams. Because the messenger who brought this letter said that 
its contents would concern you nearly. Your son, sir 

Gran. Ha, my son ! Letter ! Concern me nearly ! Give it me ! 
What terrible presentiment of evil sweeps across my thoughts like a 
shroud. [Tears it open and strikes his forehead in agony. ] Dead! dead! 

[Faints — Williams and Sterling assist him. 

Sterl. Miserable man ! retribution has come suddenly. Is it his son ] 

Williams. Yes, sir ; he was found dead in his bed at college last 
night. 

Sterl. This is terrible ! 

Gran. [Reviving.] Oh agony ! agony ! it must be a dream ! a hide- 
ous ! a damned dream. Say that it is. Who are youl Ah, old man, 
you have slain him and I'll have your heart's blood. Williams, what is 
this? where is my son '! Oh, my boy! my boy! my noble, innocent, 
glorious boy ! Dead ! No, no ! there's some life, some hope ! Paper, 
Sterling, paper ! My heart is broken ! Let Travers have all. I'll sign 
it; — perhaps the tardy justice may propitiate Heaven, and my son will 
yet live ! He's in a trance ! a faint I Come, let me sign, then take me 
to him— beggared! but living ! No matter! while I have breath, let 
me see him once — once more. [They bear him off, l. h. 

SCENE IV. — Mrs. Grimgriskin's, as before. Enter Tom, cautiously. 

Tom. I cannot keep the cursed thing any longer ; this is the house, 
and luckily the coast is clear. I'll make it all right in a jiffy. Where 
shall I put it 1 — cry out and swear I found it under the trunk — or put it 
under the sofal No, they must have looked. I'll leave it on the table. 
Yes, that'll do. Ah, where is it I I couldn't have lost it. Oh, that 
would be sure perdition. I have it ! It s not here ! Now what a 
cursed villain I am. Oh, it serves me right ; why did I yield to the 
temptation. Stay, I may find it in the street ! No, no, it's gone — gone ! 
olean gone ! Some rascal, bad as myself, has got it ; — but there may be 
a chance. I'll look through the back streets I came along. God help 
me — if I don't find it I shall go mad. [Rushes out, l. h. 

Enter Mrs. Grimgriskin, Henry and Mary, r. h. 

Mrs. G. You'll excuse the intrusion, if you please, but being a wo- 
man of few words, there can be no necessity for me to inform you that 
this is my house, meaning of course, as long as I pay my rent, which I 



20 TEMPTATION. 

don't see the slightest possibility of doing unless a similar proceeding 
takes place with regard to my rooms. 

Hen. What do you mean 1 

Mrs. G. I mean that people as can't pay, should have no objection to 
turn out in favor of them as can : so perhaps you'll be good enough to 
act accordingly. [Exit, D. F. 1 E. 

Enter hurriedly Polly and O'Beyan. l. h. 1 e. 

Bryan. This is the house, and there's 44. 

Polly. Oh, sir — Miss ! I beg your pardon for breaking in upon you so 
suddenly, but have you lost any money ] 

Hen. Yes, my good woman, a large sum. Speak, in mercy — say, do 
you know of it 1 

Polly. Was it — was it taken from you '? 

Hen. No ! it was dropped in the street. 

Polly. Thank Heaven for that relief — here it is ! 

Hen. It is ! it is ! 

Mary. Bless you ! bless you ! you know not what a weight of misery 
you have alleviated. 

Hen. Take half of it ; it honestly belongs to you. 

Polly. Not a penny ! I hate to look at it. 

Hen. Won't you, my good fellow 1 

Bryan. Not if you were my father, I wouldn't. Sure I'd rather feel 
the feeling that's warming me up like a piece of sunshine while I'm 
looking at you there now. than all you could give me. They say money 
that isn't earned is the devil's wages, and I don't want him for my mas- 
ter, any way. 

Hen. Tell me, my good, kind friends, where did you find this money 1 

Bryan. Sure, sir, it looked me straight in the face, and axed me to 
pick it up and I was afraid, sir, and- 



Polly. My husband found it, sir, and thought — that- 



Hen. I have no right tu ask any questions ; it is returned — and I have 
no doubt, correctly. 

Polly. Pray sir, look at it, I have a reason for wishing you to do so ; 
is it — is it all there I 

Hen. It is all correct ; not a shilling lost. 

Polly. Then sir, whatever pleasure you may enjoy in its recovery 
cannot equal mine in being the means of restoring it to you. 

Bryan. May I never, if here ain't the masther coming over in a state 
of distractitude. 

Enter Mrs. Grimgriskin, 1 e. r. h. 

Mrs. G. What's the meaning of this uproar. 

Bryan. It's no business of yours Mrs. Woman of few words. 

Mrs. G. Ah, you ignorant Irishman ! 

Bryan. Troth, and ye haven't called me out of my name, Ma'am. I 
know enough anyway to keep me from saying anything agin a female, 
when she tries to forget that she's a lady. 

Polly. Oh. sir — you said you would like to assist, me. All I wish you 



TEMPTATION. 21 

to do is to look over my husband's fault ; he's a good man, indeed he is 

but the drink is in him now, and 

Hen. Never fear me ! you have saved my life — all our lives and my 
gratitude is yours forever. 

Tom rushes on l. h. 

Tom. I have lost — Polly here ! 

roily. [Interrupting him.] Yes love. I did as you told me, I brought 
the money, you know, that you found. May I sir? you see how he is. 

[All go up but Polly and Tom. 

Tom. What's this, Polly 1 What do you say 1 Money ! why it's 
lost ! No ! did you 1 it can't be ! My head ! what with brandy and 
terror I am in an awful state. There, I can hear now. Dear, dear wife ! 
guardian angel ! speak to me — tell me again, did you find it? 

Polly. I did! 

Tom. Hurrah ! And brought it here 1 

Polly. Yes. 

Mrs. G. What do I hear. 

Tom. God bless you ! he will ! he will ! Oh, sir ! 

Polly. Hush ! he knows nothing, but that you found it, and sent it by 
me. You did ; you know you left it there for me to takt. 

Tom. I wish I could tell this fellow that [Strikes his breast] and he 
would believe me ; but I did mean to give it back. 

Polly. I know j'ou did, dear husband : your true heart could not 
harbor a bad thought long. 

Hen. My good friends ! 

Mary. My kind, honest fellow, your hand. 

Tom. I can't ! Poll, I can't — I'm half a scoundrel still ; how daro I. 
[Polly signs for him to take her hand.] All shake hands with Tom. 

Hen. Ah, here comes good old Sterling. 

Enter Sterling, l. h. 

Hen. By the gloom on your brow you have been as unsuccessful as 
ever ; but we shall make you shed tears of joy ; this good fellow here, 
has found and restored the money ! why you don't seem glad ! has that 
old rascal 

Sterl. Hush ! heaven has avenged you in a sudden and a fearful 
manner. 

Hen. How is this 1 Mr. Granite 

Sterl. Is dead ! 

Hen. Dead ! with him let his faults be buried ; his son may be more 
merciful ; he will inherit— ~— 

Sterl. He has inherited — his father's fate. 

Hen. Dead? 

Sterl. Justice may slumber for awhile but retribution must come at 
last. You are now, by the old man's signature, his sole heir. 

Mrs G. I'm a woman of few words, but if I had been a woman of 
less, I do believe it would have been more to my advantage ; but never 
mind, sudden millionaires are generous. Hem ! I am sorry to intrude 
upon the solemnity of your grief, but there's a lovelv first floor — such a 



TEMPTATION. 22 

• 

carpet, just turned for the season — bath room on the same floor — hot 
water. 

Bryan. Plenty of that, I'll be bail ! 

Mrs. G. It ain't my intention to say much 

Bryan. Well then don't ! haven't you got the gumption to see that 
there's one too many here 1 

Mrs. G. Then why don't you go. you Irish savage. 

Bryan. Because I'm not the one. 

Tom. Do you forgive me, Polly 1 

Polly. From my heart. 

Tom. Bless your kind soul ! I have learnt a wholesome lesson and 
never — never shall I forget it, and I hope none of our friends will forget 
it either. 

EPILOGUE. 

Tom. 

There is a moral in our little play, 
Whose influence may not be cast away, 
Oh ! think what magic's in a kindly word, 
And mercy show to those who've slightly erred. 

Polly. 

I was to blame dear Tom to envy those 

Whose wealth enabled them to wear rich clothes ; 

But mercifully was this lesson sent, 

To teach us, the best wardrobe is content. 

Bryan. 

That's true enough my darling, didn't I, 

By forgetting of that same completely fly 

Into temptation, like a big bull calf. 

Why hanging is too good for me by half. 

I'll venture now to say a word to you, 

I'm sorry to differ with the worthy few, 

They'd have you shun Temptation, don't you do it, 

But when you see Temptation here, come to it. 

Curtain. 



THE END. 






i 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



FRENCH'S AlJEM 



116 ft 



Price 12^ Cents each. — Bound Volumes $1. 



-5. .*- 



VOL. I. 

1. Midsummer Night's 

Dream. 

2. Popping the Question. 

3. La Tour de Nesle. 

4. Deaf as a Post. 

5. Therese ; or. the Or- 

phan of Geneva. 

6. Flying Dutchman. 

7. New Footman. 

8. Pleasant Neighbor. 



VOL. II. 

9. Ireland As It Is. 

10. Game of Love. 

11. Rip Van Winkle. 

12. Paddy the Piper. 

13. Ernestine. 

14. Dombey & Son. 

15. Seven Clerks. 

16. Bryan O'Lynn. 



VOL. III. 

17. Our Jemima. 

18. David Copperfield. 

19. Ugalino. 

20. Temptation. 

21. Forty Thieves. 

22. Paddy Carey. 

23. Brian Boroihme. 

24. Two Gregone*. 



VOL. IV. 

25. Game of Life. 

26. Little Treasure. 

27. King Charming. 

28. Pocahontas. 

29. R.omance & Reality. 

30. Sea of Ice. 

31. Clockmaker's Hat. 
3-2. Married Rake. 



VOL. V. 

(In Press). 
33. 
34. 

35. Carpenter of Rouen. 

36. Ireland and America. 

37. [ness 

38. Pretty Piece of Busi- 

39. Irish Broom Maker. 
40. 



VOL. VI. 

(In Press). 
41. 

42. Pauline. [£5. 

43. To Paris ar.d Back for 
44. 

45. To Parents& Guardians 
46. 

47. Our Gal. 

48. Irish Post. 



WILL BE ISSUED SOON: 

Carpenter of Rouen, Swiss Cottage, My Neighbor's Wife, Awkward 
Arrival, Thumping Legacy, Cherry and Fair Star, Rose of Etrickvale, 
Bold Dragoon, White Bait at Greenwich, Eustache, Ben Bolt, Oblige 
Benson, Abon Hassan, Young Widow, Gale Breezley, Miller of Whet- 
stone, Last Days of Pompeii, Ireland and America, In and Out of Place, 
Custom of the Countr) r , The Brigand, Duchess de la Vaubalier, Lottery 
Ticket, Dream at Sea. Family Jars, Evil Eye, Factory Lad, House Dog, 
Jewess, Kenneth, Lady and Devil, State Secrets, Rag Picker of Paris, 
£500 Reward. With many other new and scarce Plays. 

Mr. F. has over 100,000 Plays to fill orders from, published in Europe 
and America. 

American Plats, 12J Cents each, or 10 for $1.00. 

AH orders will receive prompt attention. 

S. FRENCH, 
121 Nassau Street. Xeiv York. 



